Forty Years a Gambler on the Mississippi

by George H. Devol

MY VISIT TO OLD BILL.

A short time after the occurrence narrated in the preceding story,
Canada Bill said to me, "George, don't you think we could make big
money on the wharf-boat at the mouth of the Red River, out of those
Texas boys that get off there to take the Red River boats?"

I replied, "Yes, there is plenty of money there, Bill. When do you want to go up?"

I thought he wanted to stop off for a few days, as we had often done before; but he said, "George, I am in poor health, and I want to quit the river and settle down, and I want you to be with me."

I did not blame the old fellow, for many a time we would have some pretty hard knocks and duckings in our business on the rivers and railroads; but I was well and hearty—and then I was of a roving disposition, and enjoyed the life I was leading—so I said: "Bill, you go up there and take a rest just as long as you like; but for me, I could not think of settling down on a wharf-boat, with nothing but cow-boys to break the monotony. I'll stick to the old thing as long as they will let me, or until I get married."

I did not think just then there was any possibility of my doing the latter thing; but men don't always know just what they will do, for I am married now, and have a dear old mother-in-law, too.

"Well, George, I don't like to leave you, but I will try her just once, anyhow."

We separated. Bill went to the wharf-boat, and I began looking for another partner. A few months after dissolving partnership with my old friend Bill, I met a man from Red River who told me that Bill was making big money up there. He said, "Why, that crazy looking old fellow is running a corner grocery, livery stable, and winning all the money and horses about the landing." I was not sorry he was doing well—in fact, I was glad of it; and I resolved that I would stop off on my next trip and see him. So in a few days I was on my way up to the mouth of the Red River. When the boat landed I started off, and there stood the old fellow, just as natural as life. I would have known him among ten thousand. He caught sight of me, and then he began to stretch those long thin legs of his, and in an instant he had me by the hand, saying, "Why, George! I'll be gol darned if I haint down-right glad to see you, old boy. Come right up and let's take something."

We had a few drinks, talked over old times, and to tell the truth, I was just as glad to see the old boy as he appeared to be to see me. After we had drank enough to make us feel pretty good, Bill said, "George, I've got some of the best critters in my barn that there is in this part of the country, and I won most of 'em playing the baby ticket."

As we had been together for about an hour and had got no further than the bar, I proposed that we go to his stables and see the horses, for I was always fond of good stock. As we went into the stable, we saw a fellow sitting on a box just inside of the open doors. He looked like a bull-driver, with his large whip, slouch hat, pants in boots all covered with mud, and an old pipe in his mouth. I did not take much notice of him, as I supposed he belonged around there; and then I had come to look at Bill's fine horses.